


Just a Normal Guy Doing Normal Things

by MajorGodComplex



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Customer Service, Damien buying groceries? Yep, Damien getting ID'd for the first time? That too, Damien having to pay taxes? Nice., Drabbles, Gen, One Shot Collection, You wanted Damien at the DMV? You got it, do people still call these drabbles?, now with new: damien gets a speeding ticket, you know i had to do it to him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-03-28 13:13:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13904742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorGodComplex/pseuds/MajorGodComplex
Summary: Damien lives life as an average dude. He's not that great at it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been talking about doing this for awhile, so obviously since I have an essay due tomorrow today was the best day to finally write this fic instead.

“I’m sorry sir, but I can’t let you buy that.” The girl at the counter looked young-- younger than him, in fact-- and her eyes seemed glazed over and bored as she gave him the bad news. 

“What the fuck do you mean, you can’t let me buy that?” 

“I mean, sir, that I can’t let you buy that.” 

Damien’s eyes narrowed as set the bottle of vodka on the counter. He wanted to reach out and grab hold of her throat, squeezing the air out of her until her body was nothing but a hollow shell. Maybe then she'd get the message that he wasn't in the mood to play around, not after his 6am phone call from the devil herself. All he needed was a good, hard drink. He took a deep breath. He wouldn’t choke her to death. Not today, at least. Besides, that wouldn't get him anywhere anyway. 

“Sir,” She said again, annoyance creeping into her voice now, “If you can’t show me an ID, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

And why the hell did she need an ID from him anyway? He’d never needed one before, and it wasn’t like he looked like he was under 21. At this point, her refusal to sell him liquor was nothing but stubbornness and pride. Did she honestly think she was going to lose her job over selling someone who looked in their thirties alcohol without an ID?

He pulled out his wallet anyway, knowing damn well he didn’t have an ID inside of it, and rifled through it for cash. He’d figured out pretty quickly that although he couldn’t force anyone to do anything anymore, sometimes cold hard cash did the same job.

There wasn’t much. How much did he have at home again? He’d never needed to get a job because he’d never needed to pay for anything before. He muttered a string of expletives as he pulled his last twenty out of his wallet and slammed it on the counter next to the vodka. A small line had begun to gather behind him, and he heard a small cough as some impatient customer attempted to suddenly voice their contempt. He grit his teeth. 

She looked down at the money, and then looked back up at him again. 

“Are you trying to bribe me?” She asked, although he could tell something in her voice betrayed that he’d as good as convinced her. 

“I don’t know,” He replied, his voice low and almost seductive, “Is it working?” 

She put the money in her pocket and he gave a satisfied grin, mentally patting himself on the back for a job well done. Ability or not, he knew a thing or two about manipulation. 

“It was a pleasure doing business with--”

“Have a nice day, sir.” She cut him off with a polite customer service smile, taking the bottle before he had a chance to grab it and slipping it behind the counter. She waved goodbye. 

“Hey, wait a minute, you can’t just take my--” 

“Sir, there’s a line behind you and I can’t sell you this vodka. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now.”

“You just stole twenty bucks from me!” Damien yelled, no longer trying to hold himself together. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a fucking death wish?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She looked to the man in line behind him, suddenly speaking as though Damien was no longer there. “Next in line!” 

“That’s it, I’m calling--”

“The police?” She interrupted, looking back at him again. “Go right ahead. Bribing someone into illegally selling them liquor without any legal form of identification then causing a public disturbance is also illegal, you know. You can explain that to the officer as well, if you’d like.”

Damien made an angry noise that couldn't be described and muttered a string of words that cannot be repeated, before kicking the counter as hard as he could. 

It hurt him a hell of a lot more than it hurt the counter. 

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him as the little bell jingled to sound his exit. Where the hell was he supposed to get an ID anyway?


	2. it's not illegal if i look cool doing it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damien tries to talk his way out of a speeding ticket. It goes exactly how you expect it would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know i had to do it to him

A google search quickly-- and by quickly, I mean 45 minutes-- told Damien that getting an ID meant going to the DMV to get some sort of license. Or something like that. 

Fifteen minutes into the drive to the DMV, he heard the sirens blaring behind him demanding he pull over. He looked at the speedometer. 90mph.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” He muttered, stepping on the gas to try and lose the bastard. 90mph. 92mph. 95mph. 97mph. 100mph. 100mph. His shitty car was quickly reaching its limit, and it wasn’t looking like he had any chance of losing the officer anytime soon. He groaned, cursing his awful luck, and pulled over. It seemed these days that the entire universe was against him, and no matter how hard he tried life was still going to repeatedly punch him again and again in the face. Living without his ability had only awakened him to all the injustices in the world, like, for example, getting pulled over for going 35 miles over the speed limit, which had never happened before. 

He heard a door slam behind him, and he reluctantly rolled down his window, taking a deep breath. He could talk his way out of this. He could talk his way out of anything. 

“Hello officer,” He said, realizing immediately that, as if the universe had decided to give him one single break, the officer was a woman. It was his lucky day. “What seems to be the problem?” 

He smiled, knowing it would charm her, but it wasn’t seeming to work.

“Sir, do you realize how fast you were going?” 

Damien took a deep breath. “I don’t know, officer. The speed limit?”

“Which is?” She asked.

He racked his brain trying to come up with an answer, but it’s not like he payed attention to a single speed limit sign on his way. Besides, there were much faster people than him that were driving and she hadn’t pulled any of them over.

“I don’t know,” He admitted, “But I wasn’t going any faster than any of the other cars around me and you didn’t pull any of  _ them  _ over. Is this a race thing?” 

“What?” She blinked back, surprised he would ask that.

“Is it because I’m white?” He asked again. 

“Sir, can I see your license and registration?”

“So it is a race thing,” He muttered under his breath. 

He didn’t have a license, he knew that. Registration? What the hell was a registration? He dug around in his glove compartment for show, then opened his empty wallet and flipped through it, then closed it, then looked back up at the now less-patient officer. 

“I seem to have misplaced both my license, and my registration,” He explained, flashing her a smile anyway. “How about you let me go for now, and I promise I won’t speed again in the future? That’ll save a lot of time for the both of us.” 

“So let me get this straight,” the officer said, “You don’t have a license.”

“No.”

“Or registration.”

“No.”

“And you expect me to let you go?”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. Do you want a medal for paying attention, or something?” He responded, getting annoyed at her attitude. 

She pulled something out of her pocket and began writing him a ticket, and Damien began to panic. 

“Wait!” He shouted. She stopped to look at him. He reached in his glove compartment again, pulling out a scrap of paper and a pen. 

“This…” He began writing down his phone number, “Is for you.” He handed it to her with a seductive smile, as if he were doing her a favor by giving it to her. He wouldn’t call her back, of course, he’d rather be hit by a car than go on a date with this frigid bitch, but if it would get him out of a ticket of course it would be worth it.

She plucked the phone number out of her hand, glancing over it, before ripping it in two. She began to speak into her walkie talkie.

“Yes, I’m having a bit of trouble with the guy I just pulled over. Yeah, he’s driving without a license. Should I bring him in?”

Bring him in? Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Listen, officer,” He continued, “I shouldn’t have lied to you, but the truth is that I don’t have a license. I’m on my way to go get one, and I didn’t mean to speed. I didn’t even realize it was that illegal to drive without a license if I was on my way to go get one. Clearly, I know how to drive, you can see that yourself.” 

She handed him the ticket. 

It was a lot of money.

A lot.

“As you can see, you have fines for speeding as well as for reckless driving, and driving without a license. Your court date is--”

He tuned her out. As if he would actually go to court for this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please excuse any spelling and grammar mistakes  
> i just don't care anymore  
> i am weary

**Author's Note:**

> i'd like to thank god, the academy, and lauren shippen


End file.
